


何度も

by limeli



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheating, Explicit Sexual Content, Idiots in Love, Jearmintines 2021, Love Triangles, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Post-Break Up, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29413002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limeli/pseuds/limeli
Summary: Now, in that huge airport, all he’d wanted to do was get a grip on that long bob from behind in the quietness of his bedroom, his right hand roaming all over Armin’s back and stomach as he pounded into him over and over again. Jean couldn’t help but wonder how the sociologist’s moans would sound now that he was older. Maybe the title even brought him more experience than just his studies. He imagined feeling his touch explore him, those strands of loose hair falling on Jean’s face as they kissed each other desperately, holding onto each other with biting teeth and dug-in nails.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein, Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	何度も

**Author's Note:**

> _nando mo_ , a phrase Sasuke Uchiha says about three times to make his frustration and helplessness tangible right before he goes to attack Naruto to end their final fight. This fic's named after that event because that's the overall feeling I get from this work's main character.

Taking the bus back home, Jean stretched himself unnecessarily high. He could perfectly hold the railing without putting on a show, but habits die hard. Also, somewhere in his brain, he could still feel how he stuck to the little things just to avoid feeling how much he missed him.

He and Armin, his first love and only person to step on his heart, live there, and then turn it into a million pieces, were together a long time ago. Seven years and ten months to be exact. Several times, Jean had spoken to himself in the mirror, shaving his chin and cutting through skin whenever his ex-boyfriend’s name came out of his mouth. Despite the fact someone usually rested on his bed while he did so, he’d convinced himself that he and his ex would’ve still been together.

“Well, Armin had to go and ruin it. Kinda. Not really. _Shut up_.”

Before moving into one of his mother’s apartments, Jean had wanted to ask Armin if he wanted to live with him. It wasn’t in him to study anything after high school; maybe, an office job would do. By the time he’d mustered the courage to practically propose to his extremely minuscule boyfriend, Armin broke the news that he was fleeing the country. He’d been accepted into a university who-knows-where, Jean often said when he was asked about him. He was still getting asked about Armin… Could you believe that? Honestly, though, Jean did know Armin had just packed up and left for Canada to use moose as transport as he commuted to uni beneath thousands of maple tree leaves.

When Armin had told him about it, he looked excited at best yet frightened about what the tall man’s reaction would be. As for the news receiver, he had trouble deciding whether to stay and support or let go and watch from afar (meaning any social media app and site that would’ve let him know a bit more about the soon-to-be college student). Although Jean congratulated Armin on such a huge deed, he didn’t say anything about his decision until the day of departure. He’d battled with himself to stay, but he knew the pain of a long-distance relationship would be unbearable. He was used to Armin being there, to his smell staying on his clothes, to his quirkiness and the beauty of being able to see him every day, any time he wanted. Two hours before Armin took the flight to his new home, Jean intertwined his fingers with the other boy’s and swore under his breath.

“I won’t,” Jean had whispered before his voice cracked, letting his words vanish due to his self-reported weakness of mind.

“I know,” Armin had replied almost immediately, holding him close. Although Jean had felt like he’d just been trapped into an enormous clam, he knew what it all meant. Those had been destined to be their two hours together before the impending, long-awaited breakup.

They had been inseparable in high school, so much so that Armin’s friends would often question Jean’s intentions. Therefore, it wasn’t a surprise to him that everyone else would even think that they would still be in touch despite their not being a couple. After he dismissed the topic, he was used to getting comments about his supposedly fragile ego and how inflexible he was to engage in a long-distance relationship, to which he laughed and looked aside right after. Almost eight years later, he couldn’t admit to missing him. No one knew he remained in denial except for Connie, who had been his friend since Pre-K, so he had been granted access to Jean’s mind after spending so much time together. Additionally, the news always got to his other friend, Sasha, who heard about it from Connie just so both could mourn Jean’s love life whenever they weren’t around him.

Jean adjusted to Armin’s absence after a few years passed. However, he still hated having to see some of his ex-boyfriend’s belongings in his home. Those weren’t his; he just kept them out of respect. In his closet’s drawer, there was a comic book that had been lent to him to try and get him into literature, successfully so, considering he only read ads before the time they’d begun dating; _Pygmalion_ , which Jean had kept in his room for years right after he noticed how old-fashionably boring Bernard Shaw was despite Armin’s praise towards his use of irony in his works; and a set of bed sheets Armin had taken home one time he stayed after Jean got some independence. The last item was what he’d cherished the most, putting them on his bed whenever he’d grown too nostalgic or needy. Nevertheless, it had been long after their breakup, and Jean felt like he had the moral responsibility to return them to their owner. He’d tried finding out how expensive shipping was, and his plans to go for international mailing had gone well until he opened his e-mail inbox one night.

“Hey,” Eren’s cold, low voice greeted him while Jean followed his pupils in every direction they went. He was clearly nervous about something; Jean wondered if it had anything to do with - “Armin is back.”

Not only had he waited some years to make up his mind about Armin, but he’d also started dating the short boy’s best friend in the process. Regardless of how impressively covered his needs were, it didn’t really do him any better. Staring into opaque green eyes, he noticed that his current boyfriend had recently found out that Armin was back. It was definitely not what Jean had been expecting.

It had been three years since Eren and he had stopped fooling around and called it an official relationship despite others’ disapproval. It wasn’t like they cared enough, though Jean really did up to their first anniversary (…still, he would never admit to it either). They didn’t live together, however, because they knew they weren’t compatible. Both of them were pretty disorganized in every single way, but they had discovered throughout the years that their messes weren’t to ever be mixed into one. In Jean’s mind, it almost felt like they knew their relationship wasn’t meant to last forever. When Eren locked his phone and put it on the kitchen table, his eyes boring holes into Jean’s hazel ones, he already knew what to answer.

“I know,” Jean mumbled after a while, looking down as he swept the floor, pretending he didn’t care about the news.

“How?”

“He e-mailed me last night,” Jean tsked and whispered groggily, stretching his arms behind his head. “Did he seriously go to a university or did he attend some sort of medieval arts school? It felt like he didn’t even know how to use social media. Are you sure he didn’t go to Hogwarts?”

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“Well, you’re his best friend. How could I imagine you didn’t know?”

“He wanted it to be a surprise, judging by the way he told me that he’s just arrived at the airport. He wants me to pick him up.”

“Yeah. Okay. Good for him.”

“Would you accompany me?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Eren asked although both knew the answer to that. “Do you have anything to do today?”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Come on,” Jean felt the brunet’s hand lean on his chest, right on top of his heart, as if trying to press the wound on it and guess what the hell was happening to him. “He’ll be happy to see you.”

Jean’s heart fluttered even though he’d tried his best to keep it cool. But he just couldn’t do anything about it, and Eren knew what that had meant as well.

“Does he know?” Jean asked defensively. As far as he was concerned, Armin wasn’t aware of their relationship just yet.

“No,” Eren replied, visibly doubting his idea for a second. However, his emerald eyes shone brightly, and Jean knew it couldn’t be stopped. Unless – “But he’ll be supportive. It’s been eight years already, and Armin knows so much more about the world that he wouldn’t stop to care about us one bit. What do you think?”

Jean wished Eren was wrong, but he wouldn’t stay true to his brain either. “Yeah. Maybe.” To him, it just felt like Eren was trying to prove how faithful and committed he actually was to whatever it was that they had. “But I still don’t wanna. Sorry. I guess.”

“It’s just Armin,” Eren sighed, feigning defeat and practically groaning his best friend’s name to keep testing his patience. _Just_ Armin. Sure. “Unless you still feel something for him. If that’s the case, then, I think the years we’ve spent together have been nothing but –“

“Eren,” Jean called out, frozen by the implication of having used someone else just to feel some sort of balance in his incredibly miserable life. “Fuck off. No. Of course not.”

“So?”

“So what? I just don’t feel like going,” Jean yelled in frustration, giving it his all to keep the volume down. It certainly didn’t work, judging by the red already going up Eren’s face as he started fuming. Looking down at his hands, he realized the best he could do to make up for the sudden outburst was giving in. “But okay. He might need some help with his stuff anyway.”

“So you’re going.”

“Yeah. It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

* * *

The ride towards the airport was silent. By the time they arrived, Mikasa was already waiting for her beloved friend outside Gate 40, hand sanitizer and face mask in hand.

Bowing curtly at her, Jean stood on her left side, while Eren took her right. Watching the young woman tip her head to his boyfriend’s side, probably asking him why they weren’t standing next to each other, Jean cleared his throat soundly. He took a look at his wristwatch and breathed in, trying to calm his nerves and control the foot he was tapping against the big, grey tiles. For all 5 minutes, none of them said anything, just looking through the glass doors until the sight of long, blonde hair appeared in front of them on top of the tiny young man they knew so well. He did, probably, so much better than any of the other two people standing beside him.

As much as he’d practiced staying neutral, a straight line decorating his lips as if he were about to meet a stranger, Jean felt it twitch at the sight of those blue eyes he’d dreamed of every night for all those years. It took all his strength not to jump towards Armin when the short man showed up, walking through the open doors. He figured then that it wasn’t a matter of controlling his impulses for dignity but because he’d been carefully watched ever since he’d spotted the recently graduated sociologist. However, it all went to waste when the blonde man found him there, waiting as if he’d actually planned to be there for him. With a huge smile on his face, watery eyes, and everything, Armin clung to Jean’s neck, which moved him much more than he’d expected. He hadn’t even expected Armin to be so passionate about his being there after so many years.

“Hey there.” Jean breathed in the citric smell of the other man’s cologne as he took advantage of the seconds they spent embracing each other. He let one hand slightly move from the man’s right shoulder to his nape, nuzzling his nose on his temple as he got him in a comfortable position. Trying not to lose himself in his ex-boyfriend’s arms, he lifted his head to remind himself they no longer were each other’s.

“Long time no see, Jean,” Armin said quietly as his voice broke, and it was then that the taller man understood he hadn’t even thought of how much he’d missed his name coming out of Armin’s lips.

Letting go was hard, but Jean knew he had to. Fortunately for him, all that dynamic had just taken place in a matter of seconds, which was all the more meaningful to Jean. They had managed not to be obvious about one another but kept the old practices they used to have. They had shown they still fit next to each other perfectly, like all those cheesy puzzle jokes Connie used to make back in their senior year.

Watching Armin laugh at Mikasa’s mother-like worry, he took the bottle of hand sanitizer from her and poured some of the transparent gel on his hands. Letting the tips of his fingers go from his wrists to the spaces between each finger, he smiled down at Mikasa and blushed in a way Jean had missed so much. When he saw Armin hug her, he felt his heart lift in what felt like a relief, yet he controlled his facial expressions well enough to look at his current boyfriend. Eren had stood still on the other side of Mikasa, watching his best friend with genuine happiness until his eyes met Jean’s, and the tallest man in the group already knew what that meant. No matter how much he’d tried to warn Eren, he knew that going there with the other two had been a mistake he’d regret later. Probably in a few minutes. Who knew what went through Eren’s head? Definitely not Jean.

Or maybe he was just being paranoid about it.

When Armin put his mask on, Mikasa took his suitcase’s handle and rolled Armin’s belongings out of the terminal as she caught up to him. Behind them, Jean felt no air run into his lungs, and he swore he would pass out any second after Eren held his hand and stared up at him as if waiting for an apology for that morning’s argument.

“You okay?” The brunet asked, gazing into Jean’s empty look as he shook their hands together. Jumping slightly, Jean looked back, but he didn’t strengthen the link of their hands any more than Eren already had. His fingers stayed separated, no sign of wanting to hold hands anywhere near Armin.

“You know I’m not,” Jean muttered, watching Mikasa walk in front of him. “We all know this isn’t a bit right. I don’t know why you insisted.”

“Well. You agreed to it, Jean.”

“Armin doesn’t know.”

“And you agreed to it,” Eren echoed his own words, though they had a different meaning that time. Falling silent, Jean sighed, facing the airport’s entrance which the two people ahead of them had just walked through.

When he saw Armin turn around to look at them, he knew he was screwed. All of the while, his eyes had been fixated on his ex’s hair as he let his imagination wander way outside those thick walls with an international presence. Armin had grown his hair long once more, long enough to tie it into a high ponytail. When he touched Armin’s nape, he could feel how silky his hair felt in comparison to when he was younger. He remembered how it felt to take Armin from his scalp just to kiss him roughly, usually leaving him speechless or getting unexpected responses from the blonde – but that had been back then. Now, in that huge airport, all he’d wanted to do was get a grip on that long bob from behind in the quietness of his bedroom, his right hand roaming all over Armin’s back and stomach as he pounded into him over and over again. Jean couldn’t help but wonder how the sociologist’s moans would sound now that he was older. Maybe the title even brought him more experience than just his studies. He imagined feeling his touch explore him, those strands of loose hair falling on Jean’s face as they kissed each other desperately, holding onto each other with biting teeth and dug-in nails.

When Armin watched his and Eren’s hands linked as both walked through the same doors a few seconds later, that deep blue sea invaded the drought that Jean’s gaze had turned into. Questioningly, the Social Studies major remained silent as he waited for the taller man to explain, yet there weren’t any words Jean could say to make it better. He could probably kiss it better, hug it better, or fuck it better, but never make it better. It was all wishful thinking in the end.

“Oh,” Armin smiled, though Jean had seen the ghost of tears wrap around his corneas. “This is so unexpected. I could just imagine you guys disagreeing and punching each other – not dating!”

Jean prayed for Eren to take over the conversation and thanked the deities above for having made his dream come true for a second. That was until he screwed up as usual, of course.

“I know, right? How long has it been, Jean?” Eren exclaimed, asking him not so rhetorically. Sighing soundly, Jean expressed his discomfort because he’d wholeheartedly wished for Eren to lead the conversation smoothly, not prompting anything at all.

“Three,” he mumbled for a reply, staring at Mikasa and finding relief in her for once in his life. Out of all the people involved, he realized she was the only one he could look at without feeling guilty.

“Yeah, so it’s been a lot,” Eren smiled at his best friend and, since the three of them were practically siblings by then, Jean couldn’t understand how Eren was so relaxed about breaking the news to Armin of all people.

“Oh, I can imagine,” Armin nodded in his direction, eyeing Jean sideways. “By our third year, I’d already experienced lots of things in my first relationship, too.”

* * *

Would Jean have rather stayed a fuck buddy to Eren? As much as he’d brought himself back to question it, he could never answer that. Initially, their friendship had mutated into insanely going down on each other, followed by lots of cuddling and watching series when they got tired. They’d spent so many years together that, at times, Jean had questioned the validity of the emotions involved in the process. Eren had made him feel well more than once, and it was something he’d always valued – that was until he read about Armin’s return.

Weekend mornings were great because they spent plenty of time just doing nothing, and none of them was bothered by it. In the afternoons, Jean would often visit Eren to take him out of his apartment for a walk. They would sit at one of the benches surrounding the Rose fountain and share about what they’d been up to in each other’s absence. Whenever Mikasa showed up after work, they would serve her dinner and talk about her day. At first, she had quite an issue with coming to terms with their relationship but, the more they saw each other, the more comfortable she had tried to be about it. From the bottom of his heart, Jean knew she would never turn out to be 100% in agreement with what they had, but 60% was better than no agreement at all. Still, he was well aware that the remaining percentage depended on what both of them worried about: Armin’s heart.

There were some days when he couldn’t believe how they got together. It originally was meant to be a way to just release all his anger while relieving Eren’s sexual appetite, but it rapidly turned into something homey and warm. Many times, Jean had thought of calling it quits, yet when he looked Eren in the eyes, it became impossible for him to let go. Was it that Eren was the last remaining bit of Armin’s world that was still available to him? Or did he really feel something for him? Now that Armin was there in flesh and bone, still gaping at him after a few hours of witnessing kisses on his cheek and whatnot, Jean wasn’t so sure what the answer was. The worst part of it all had been that they were already helping Armin get his luggage to the second floor, and nothing had been explained to him yet. It was like Eren had just assumed that Armin would understand, and Jean just followed the flow of it all not to disrupt things more than they already had been.

There were some days when he couldn’t believe how they got together. It originally was meant to be a way to just release all his anger while relieving Eren’s sexual appetite, but it rapidly turned into something homey and warm. Many times, Jean had thought of calling it quits, yet when he looked Eren in the eyes, it became impossible for him to let go. Was it that Eren was the last remaining bit of Armin’s world that was still available to him? Or did he really feel something for him? Now that Armin was there in flesh and bone, still gaping at him after a few hours of witnessing kisses on his cheek and whatnot, Jean wasn’t so sure what the answer was. The worst part of it all had been that they were already helping Armin get his luggage to the second floor, and nothing had been explained to him yet. It was like Eren had just assumed that Armin would understand, and Jean just followed the flow of it all not to disrupt things more than they already had been.

“Everybody.” Armin’s whispers sounded from the back of his new room, and his body magnetically turned to face him, red cheeks and glossy eyes in the blonde’s direction. Fortunately, the other two had reacted just as fast, so he’d gone unnoticed. He guessed everyone had been waiting for the question to come. “I’ll go get a few things at the market. Please, leave everything as it is and just do… something else. You’ve helped enough.”

Deep inside, Jean felt personally addressed and rushed to get his beanie and the jacket he’d instinctively left in Eren’s bedroom, right next to Armin’s. Returning to his ex’s room, he bowed anxiously, yet doing his best to make his leave as peacefully as possible. Staring into Eren’s eyes for longer than he would’ve wanted, he mentally pleaded for forgiveness. Why? He wasn’t sure, for he hadn’t wanted to be there in the first place. When he watched his boyfriend nod silently, a tiny smile forming on his lips, he went for the already well-rehearsed apologies and goodbyes.

“Actually, I gotta go, too. Thanks for having me, Mikasa,” he breathed out heavily and, though Eren’s sister barely looked in his direction, he sensed that silence had been enough of an answer. “Glad you’re back, ‘Min. Make yourself at home,” he finished rapidly, holding the doorknob to the blonde’s room tightly.

“Well, thanks. Didn’t know I also needed your blessing.” He heard the sociologist’s light, plain voice pronounce each word harshly. Jean was certain there would be a pending conversation between them.

Oh, how he’d wanted to slam the door.

* * *

Jean rode his bike to his extremely ordinary workplace every day. At 25, he wasn’t that successful just because he’d never wanted to. He had to admit, however, that he was a really lucky man despite the recent events that had happened in his life. _The_ event, in _singular_ , if he had to be precise. He’d never imagined Armin’s return being something so negative to him. Regardless, Jean took it as a challenge that life had put in his way just for the sake of testing his commitment to his current relationship. It wasn’t like he’d ever break up with Eren over something so meaningless, right? _Right?_

Coming to a halt, he stopped at the bike park and locked his bicycle before entering the library building. He’d started working there right after Armin left, just for the sake of not letting go of everything the shorter man loved. Just for the sake of feeling like he was still loved, even though he remained decorative to one of Armin’s favorite places ever. As time went by, he learned to like his job for what it was, hiding everything it meant somewhere in his subconscious just to become more functional. Once he mastered putting his priorities before his dreams, Jean got promoted to being one of the library’s supervisors. He still didn’t know how he’d got there from just cleaning the shelves and putting books and magazines in order. From what he recalled, his boss let him know a year after he started, saying he’d done a great job because he was passionate about and committed to their library. Back then, Jean had just looked down at his shoes, for he’d attempted at doing the same with Armin to no avail.

_Don’t be stupid. It couldn’t be helped._

“Hey, Jean.” His co-worker’s soft voice came from the back of the bathroom hall. Turning around with a smile, already feeling the weight on his shoulders lift, Jean waved at the taller man approaching him. “You’re here earlier than expected today. You alright?”

“Always the wizard, Marco,” Jean hollered through the thick fabric of his black mask and giggled, bumping elbows with his work partner. Walking towards the reception, he opened the door for his colleague to enter before him. Once they were in, he turned on the old-fashioned walkie-talkies they were meant to have on them at all times. Sighing, he watched the recruits already cleaning the library’s second floor. “You know, I’ve just been thinking.”

“Oh. Okay. Bad news. That’s dangerous.”

“Asshat,” Jean contained his laughter and elbowed Marco before sitting on his chair, exactly placed two meters away from the other man. Scratching his brow just to try and get the relieving sensation to move down to where his nose itched, he stared in his co-worker’s way, trying to come up with a clear explanation of what had happened to him the last few days. When he didn’t know exactly what it was that was happening, he felt his heart clench. “It’s been tough lately.”

“I can tell. You look like you’re in lots of pain. Do you need to take the day off?”

“Shit, no. I never thought I’d say this,” Jean said, laughing to get rid of the lump in his throat, “but I really don’t wanna be home. I’d rather work here forever.”

“Did something happen with Eren?” Marco jumped and, though Jean had already explained everything about his weird relationship with Yeager, the mere sound of his name on another person’s lips made him flinch. Watching the firm, long fingers of his colleague go through that dark hair of his was enough for Jean to let go of that mysterious façade he put on before telling his partner about his problems.

“No. I mean, yes. But. Shit, it’s not Eren.”

“Not Eren? Wow, okay. Should we call that progress?”

“It’s me this time.”

“Come on, man,” Marco huffed, apparently amused by Jean’s words. It was then that the troubled man realized he’d never admitted to any faults from his side until he sat to talk to Marco. “This is strange. You usually just tell me about your fights and always say they’re meaningless. What went wrong?”

“My ex came back home.”

“So? It’s been three years,” Marco whispered, noticing some elder users had already entered the building. As supervisors, the main rule was to always behave properly; that was as long as they were near the users’ sight and hearing at least. If there was something Jean liked a lot about his library friend, it was that he was as cautious and professional as someone could be.

“Wait. Do you have time?”

“Jesus. Is it that serious?” Jean heard the question come out of the other man’s mouth like a squeak, a sound he only made when inventory items were missing or when he found something out of place on the library’s second floor. “Okay. Sorry. My voice isn’t helping but, yeah, we have all day.”

“My ex is my boyfriend’s best friend. We’ve all known each other since middle school.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding right now?” Jean whisper-yelled, opening his eyes like plates and thanking the pandemic for keeping his open nostrils out of Marco’s sight.

“So, wait, you said you were with your ex like… I don’t remember how long ago, man.”

“Around eight years ago. For three years and eleven months,” Jean nodded his head frantically, opening his laptop to see the borrowed books registry of the day. When he felt the whole information cubicle be invaded by silence, he turned his head to Windows Vista’s power-up sound. Staring at Marco’s shocked face, he swallowed hard.

“You got it bad, pal. I guess that’s enough to understand what’s going on here.”

“What do you mean, Bodt?”

“You can’t remember your _job_ ’s important dates, but you won’t forget about how long an old relationship lasted?”

“Selective memory?” Jean smiled, trying to play it cool one last time before crowning Marco as the person who would know him completely. “Yeah, man. That’s why I feel like shit.”

“Does Eren know about all this? How did you guys even –“ Marco stopped in his tracks to make Jean face him, tugging his arm. “Don’t tell me you’re cheating on him.”

“No! I’d rather die. He just came back, and I met with him again because Eren kinda forced me to go get him at the airport.”

“No way.”

“Yes fuckin’ way. And now I don’t know what to do. He didn’t even know Eren and I are together, and we just went there like ‘Hey. Look. We’re holding hands and kissing but, of course, we never told you shit.’ Joke’s on him for not having social media.”

“Sounds pretty toxic to me, Jean. Are you sure you can pull this off without breaking apart? What does Eren think about all this?”

Turning his hands into fists, Jean fixed his gaze on his hands, doing his best not to lose it right there. Breathing in and out, trying to regain some peace, he spoke painfully slowly. “He said Armin would get used to us, but I don’t think so. Armin Arlert is just such a good guy that he doesn’t deserve to go through this. He’s… Man, he really doesn’t deserve all this. He’s smart, kind, and everything he does is admirable. I could never do anything to break him, you know? Why would I?”

“So, what are you gonna do?” Marco asked him for the last time, propping on his left hand just to stare at him with something that looked like pity and hopelessness. Jean knew that, whenever one of those two feelings crossed his partner’s dark eyes, there would be trouble. Marco’s awareness of how the world worked always impressed him.

“Hopefully,” Jean interrupted himself to let out a sigh, trying to come up with words that would convince both, “not break him and not break myself down.”

“Just know I’ll be here anytime, alright? That sounds tough, buddy, but you can do this.”

“Thanks, Marco,” Jean smiled at his co-worker before receiving a call from one of the newbies, telling him they weren’t going to work. Shrugging, he stood up from his seat and pointed at the small café they kept in the building, letting Marco know they would have to endure each other’s absence for the day. Getting a nod in return, Jean walked in long strides and put on the cleanest apron he found before sweeping the floor and repositioning the armchairs resting next to the Comic Books section.

* * *

Coming home to an empty house with absolutely no welcoming features made Jean anxious the week that followed. After his talk with his colleague and what had happened on Armin’s first day back, he didn’t feel well about communicating with Eren. They were used to that sort of dynamic from time to time – Jean would block Eren until he’d just realize what he was doing was stupid. Then, he would go back to his boyfriend with a cocky attitude and ready to do what they did best – reconcile in bed, nonetheless.

The librarian wished for his worries to go down the drain soon, but something inside of him told him the discomfort would last longer than usual. Lying on the couch in the morning light, his day-off just starting with the chirps of birds outside his apartment window, Jean decided it would be best to get rid of his insecurities tangibly. As he got up to walk towards his room, he set his eyes on his closet – more specifically, on the goddamned drawer where everything had been stored for so long. There, he found the issue of _The Amazing Spiderman_ , which Armin had given to him since he sort of resembled Andrew Garfield with the moody face. Digging his nails into the near space, he stretched his fingers to the back of the drawer and got the comic book along with the polka-dot bed sheets.

Putting the objects – _souvenirs_ of the territory he would no longer be able to explore any further, considering the longing he felt by then – in a small shoebox, he held it close to his heart and opened his apartment door. Wearing his day-off typical look, a loose tie-dye T-shirt; baggy jeans; and ripped-off flip flops which he’d gone DIY on, fixing the straps with glue and soda-can caps, Jean took his keys and departed with a mix of fear and excitement. There would be no better day to call it off entirely than that one. Jean trusted his own judgment, and what he was about to do would leave everyone involved unharmed.

He hadn’t been the one left behind after all. He didn’t have to pay the price of Armin’s actions. He had waited until he couldn’t wait anymore. He had waited until he felt his life had to start again. He had waited, and Armin hadn’t. _Fuck him_ , he thought, blowing a hair strand from the long fringe he’d started growing.

Several times on his way to Eren and Mikasa’s house, he attempted to get rid of his ex’s belongings without necessarily having to go there and give them back. It would’ve been just so easy! Throwing the stupid readings and fabric into one of the street’s trash bins and then bidding farewell to the memory that remained of someone who wasn’t _his_ someone anymore. It would’ve been just right, but he insisted on taking the bus to the street where they lived. Sitting on one of the backseats, right next to the broken, graffitied door, he felt the wind blow on his face, the smell of city life just starting to intoxicate him. Although he appreciated the connectivity and variety his town had to offer, he would’ve preferred to have the experience of going somewhere new. With someone. With Armin – when he’d left him. But some things couldn’t be, and just like his street’s damaged light post, he was bound to the concrete that protected him from falling into nothingness. Stepping on the asphalt that greeted him as he left the bus with a loud-spoken goodbye in the driver’s direction, the librarian made his way to the opposite sidewalk, crossing the street with a red light and the hopes of finishing it all there and then.

Bright-eyed with a crooked back, Jean firmly knocked on the door three times, loud and clear. Taking one last look at the box, he was welcomed by the loud creaking of the poorly oiled hinges and thanked the heavens to have found the pair of eyes he’d meant to see all along.

“Why are you…?” the short, blond man asked him from the other side of the threshold. The tired look in Armin’s eyes, properly fashioned into a grimace, let Jean know it had been the right time to put an end to whatever there was left. “Neither Eren nor Mikasa left me messages about you. Eren’s at wo-“

“I know,” the taller man admitted breathlessly, running a hand through his chestnut hair to try and get a grip on what his mission was. “There are some things I need to return.”

“Come in,” Armin commanded with a sigh, turning his back on him and walking towards the kitchen. “There may be something you’ll have to take back home.”

Lost, Jean questioned the decision he was about to make. The mere implication of entering Eren’s home in his absence to see his ex and return stuff they’d once shared puzzled him. He could’ve just accepted the box and made him leave, but Armin never took a step without knowing what was coming next. Closing the front door behind his back, Jean looked around the hall until he spotted the host drawing the curtains of the kitchen. Walking into the room, the colors Mikasa and Eren had painted it with to make the effort of having a homier environment drained what was left of his courage. Baby yellow surrounded the two, Armin’s hair making a beautiful contrast with the walls behind him. When Jean noticed he was paying too much attention, he inhaled and grabbed the box with a stronger grip, moving forward to the kitchen counter.

“I’m surprised you’ve taken the time to come all the way here. What do you have in there?”

Armin was someone so caring and sweet that he’d never felt his instincts overtake him out of uncertainty. However, right there in front of him, Jean felt as vulnerable as he could be.

“It wasn’t much. I come here all the time,” he giggled and put the box on the counter, the small prism leaving his hands way too loudly as it hit the wooden surface.

“I bet,” was all Armin answered, but it was enough for both to look into each other’s eyes, processing the information the other thought he thought he’d understood. “Coffee?”

“No, thanks. Just check the box and see what you’re taking and what you’re throwing out,” Jean shook his head with a frown as his foot made its way to the trash bin’s silver lid. Pointing at the small box, he continued, “I’ll wait for you. That’s my recycling bin, so you can’t keep it.”

Getting a laugh out of Armin, Jean eyed his interlocutor, completely bewildered by the warm feeling that threatened to stay somewhere behind his ribcage. Smiling to himself, he showed Armin the items he’d collected for him. When he felt Armin’s hand move way too fast, brushing his just to grab the Marvel comic, Jean jumped at the soft and cold touch.

“I’d thought this would be the first thing you’d get rid of after we-“

“How could I?” the taller man interrupted him, propping his head upon his right hand due to the lack of chairs nearby. When he realized he’d spoken way past his word limit, he shut his mouth, pressing his lips together not to let another sound out.

“You’d know,” Armin sighed, smiling at him quite melancholically, just the way he did whenever he thought his fate couldn’t get any worse. Looking back, Jean realized his psyche had remained the same despite the years that had gone by and all the things he’d probably experienced so far away from him.

“Uh- There’s also _Pygmalion_ , which I never read. Oops? I guess.”

“That’s fine. It didn’t age well anyway,” Armin tutted in response, scrunching his nose right after just to dismiss a topic the way he always used to. If Jean had to be honest, the worst part of meeting with his ex again was that he had to go through all the stages of gestural recognition as if he were on autopilot. It became _that_ inevitable. “Excuse me, Jean, but you’re looking at me again and it does make me feel a bit uncomfortable.”

 _Uncomfortable_. A word he was certain he’d never been related to in Armin’s word mapping.

“Oh, then just don’t get the next one out,” Jean replied quickly, feeling sort of tongue-tied as he took the box in his hands. Armin’s small ones were fast enough to grab the neatly folded fabric out of his recycling bin. Putting the cardboard container aside, he let his arms fall, hitting his sides clumsily.

Avoiding Armin’s eyes, Jean turned red when he saw the bedsheets Armin had left at his house. The snow-white spaces among the navy-blue dots that decorated the piece made him feel confused about whether he was having visual issues or getting more nervous than before. Either way, he found himself unable to meet the other man’s eyes, his own lost in what looked like the avalanche that was about to come.

“Why do you still have these, Jean?” Armin asked with what seemed like genuine curiosity, shaking the sheets with his left hand. Surprised by his name being pronounced for the first time in their short meeting, his ashy-colored hair was raised to look back at the blond.

“They were yours. You left them in my house before you-“ He started answering and stopped himself to watch Armin analyzing the bedsheets in detail. “What’s wrong?”

“Since when do you fold these correctly?”

“I didn’t want to give them back to you in poor condition.”

“Did Eren teach you?” Armin practically spat, and the librarian noticed his breathing stop when he realized what he’d just been asked.

“I learned. That means, no, Armin. I haven’t even used them with _him_ either.”

Apologetically so, the taller of the two admitted to himself there had been no other name running through his mind but Armin those last few days. Trapped in his bedroom, far from any sort of civilized being, he’d behaved like an animal ever since he blocked Eren for the millionth time. He called it part of the process, trying to convince himself he was alright as he touched himself, thinking of not-Eren. Armin, rather. Armin Arlert, he reminded himself, sighs leaving his mouth accompanied by the same name he’d been repeating in his head on a daily basis. Armin. Therefore, _him_ suited Eren perfectly – or anyone else for that matter. There was no one else but Armin.

Leaning over the counter, Jean’s chin lay on his hands, getting closer to the owner of his every thought. Watching Armin from just a few centimeters below his face, the librarian breathed in the other’s scent and rejoiced it, for he’d missed it terribly. As if he’d been in a dream, he waited expectantly for Armin’s blush to decorate his cheeks as it usually happened back then.

But it didn’t. The only perceptible thing he caught from Armin was his heavy breathing, which signaled how fast his heart was beating.

“You promise?” the sociologist asked after a while, noticeably speechless about something that had sounded so meaningless in Jean’s head.

“I could never – No,” he laughed lightly in return, looking up at his ex-boyfriend, whose eyes had just started getting watery. Raising one hand to dry the tears that threatened to roll down Armin’s cheeks, Jean cupped the other man’s face and felt the aftermath of such a silly action hit him. Recomposing himself, he stood straight and let go, putting both of his hands in his pockets. “Those are yours. I’d better go now.”

Walking away with the empty container under his armpit, he went to open the door to take his leave. Hearing the soft _tip tap tap_ of Armin’s quiet steps behind him, he turned around to say his goodbyes but found a shocking sight before him. Standing right in front of him, the blond man stared at him defiantly, that pair of blue eyes never leaving his. Paralyzed by the beauty of such an entrance, Jean’s hand let go of the doorknob, crashing against the other man’s arm as their limbs made their way to the backs of their heads, pulling them close.

“You’re gonna regret this,” Jean warned him coarsely, his voice low and sultry. Brushing their noses together, he insisted. “I just know it.”

“If you’ll kiss me, do it right,” Armin answered in a heartbeat, his whisper letting him know how heartbreaking it all was to him already. “Do it right and do it now.”

Finding the sociologist’s ocean eyes waiting to be admired, his hazel orbs focused on them for a second, adjusting to the low light of the hall. Before he could stop to think it over, Jean dove in as the other man pulled him in simultaneously. Pushing Armin against the front door, there was a loud thump to which both smiled goofily as the librarian caught his lips, kissing him hard. Try as he might, he couldn’t picture himself letting go, and the feeling grew bigger and bigger as he sensed the blond man’s urgency to be pressed against him.

They kissed messily at first, pulling each other’s hair slightly, just to make sure what was happening was real. Nevertheless, as they adjusted to kissing the current versions of Armin and Jean respectively, they grew hungry with a feeling that had been dormant for many years. Rubbing small circles on his lover’s nape and softly scratching on it as his fingers went around the short hair of Armin’s undercut, Jean took a moment to just feel something, _anything_ that he could take with him for the days to come. What he was doing was a mistake, but it would’ve also been a mistake to let Armin go like he meant nothing. It would’ve been a mistake to fool him into thinking he meant nothing at all when he actually meant the world. He deserved to know how much he loved him.

Loved? _Loved._ Right. He was supposed to have overcome that love. Taking the shorter man from the shoulders, he let his eyes pierce into Armin’s as the other man watched him with his mouth closed, breathing unevenly. Biting his lower lip, he had to force the sociologist to stay in place, acting as a barrier to keep him from jumping on top of him.

“Jean.” He heard the blonde say when he caught his drift. “What happened?”

“What _happened_?” the librarian answered, frowning as guilt invaded him. “Armin. Are _you_ of all people asking that? This shouldn’t have _happened_.”

“The day I returned I was determined to do anything for you. Anything, Jean. You don’t know how much I missed you and-“

The brunet raised his hands as if covering himself from rocks being thrown at him. He didn’t want any explanations. He wanted the pain to go away. First and foremost, he wanted life to be like nothing had happened – like Armin’s coming home hadn’t broken him inside. Despite his wishes, when he heard his ex-boyfriend start sniffing, trying to hold his own pain not to compromise Jean’s, he understood things were different for the better. That wasn’t Eren crying to get something out of him; it was an honest, heartfelt cry for help coming from the person who’d lived in his heart up to that day.

“Armin, please,” Jean begged in return, his voice breaking after trying to stay strong about it all for so long. “This… This won’t happen again. Fuck, I was drawn to you out of habit. I’m-“

“ _I_ kissed you!” His interlocutor cut him off. It usually wasn’t like Armin to take credit for his brave actions, so Jean opened his eyes, feeling astonished at his lover’s change. “I came here intending to kiss you. I wanted to kiss you. Every day, every _night_. Don’t you understand? I-”

“I need to go. Shit. This isn’t fair.”

Lifting his right hand off Armin’s shoulder, he kneeled to pick up the box and softly pushed past the man he’d been kissing minutes before. In silence, Jean held the doorknob tight and looked behind him one last time to find the pair of eyes he loved the most asking him how much more he’d take. Looking down, Jean closed the door soundlessly and covered his lips with his free hand, the taste of his first love still lingering on his lips.

* * *

Counting back on the days he’d gone “missing,” as he liked to call it whenever he blocked Eren, he realized it had already been a week and a half. As much as he wanted to disappear and not exist in anyone’s life anymore, Jean’s moral standards were high, and he couldn’t possibly go on without facing his boyfriend. If he wasn’t going to stay a hundred percent true to him after the tiny make-out session with his a) ex-boyfriend and also b) his boyfriend’s best friend, the least he could do was telling things as they were.

“Marco, the talking part went wrong,” Jean said one afternoon, munching over some broccoli with a lost look on his face. If it hadn’t been for the five times Marco directed Jean’s hand to his water bottle, his takeout would’ve turned into an ocean by then. “So wrong.”

“Before you continue, please, secure the bottle’s cap. I don’t wanna _drink_ my lunch.”

“Fuck you,” Jean smirked and did as he was told, realizing his meal remained the same except for the lack of broccoli.

“Alright, boy. Tell me – Wait, did he spit on you or something? Hit you?”

“When have people spat at each other when talking about a relationship?” Jean laughed incredulously until he remembered what had happened between Armin and him. “Well, actually. Just whatever.”

“If he did that, he was really gross. Not boyfriend material – at least Eren doesn’t… Ew.”

“God, Marco, let me speak,” Jean groaned, separating the vegetables that had mixed up after shaking his lunch bag too much. “I went there and gave back his things. It all went pretty normal, but I grew too comfortable and kinda wanted to stop but then –“

“So you cheated.”

“No. I mean. He kissed me?” Cringing as an awkward silence filled their space, Jean distanced himself looking around the park that surrounded the public library. “That’s not good enough for an excuse now, is it?”

“Did you kiss him back?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jean smiled out of the blue, suddenly forgetting how problematic the event actually was.

“You really are weak, Jean Kirschstein,” Marco rolled his eyes, staring at the runners and skaters nearby. “Does Eren know?”

“No. I guess he doesn’t. Armin would never –“

“It’s been like what? Centuries since he left?” Marco questioned him, pouting with one of his hard-to-remove frowns. “You can’t expect this Armin to be _your_ Armin. He did go and kiss you like it meant nothing after all. Anyway, please, tell me you didn’t end up in… you know. A compromising situation.”

The mere thought of it made Jean’s mind run a thousand kilometers per hour, and his cheeks became as red as tomatoes. Laughing, Marco punched him in the shoulder lightly and nodded before he could go on guessing.

“So you guys really had sex and no one knows? Is that it?”

“I wish,” Jean sighed, playing with his food at that point of their conversation. He’d really heated it for nothing, judging by how low his appetite was. “But no. I stopped it. Could you give me credit for at least stopping all that? Pretty please?”

“Should we just give you the Peace Nobel Prize?”

Feeling his best friend’s comment strike him like a baseball bat on the head, Jean’s eyes analyzed his speech, word by word. Shaking his head in denial, he squinted his eyes at Marco while trying to get rid of the tension with a sensible comment. However, it never came as he realized all the ideas on his mind weren’t enough for a comeback. He had just admitted to not being anywhere over his ex-boyfriend, the mere thought of it condemning him. Inhaling deeply, he put his fork aside, swiping his right thumb over the metallic surface of the piece of cutlery. Recalling his last words to Armin, he realized that he’d been wrong all along – It was all fair, just not to all the people involved. Not to Eren. Luckily to him, as if Marco had mindread him completely, he felt the touch of his hand on his shoulder once more and gave his co-worker a small smile. He’d always been his savior.

“Thanks, man.”

“You’ll get through this, Jean. Just keep me posted because I like drama,” Marco giggled in return, squeezing his shoulder before letting go.

“You really are enjoying this, huh?”

* * *

Jean’s surprise was big when he got home one night to find Eren Yeager napping on his couch. It had already been more than two weeks since the last time they’d talked. By then, he’d totally forgotten about how to confront the problem at hand with the loads of work he had to deal with daily. Leaving his keys on the kitchen table, he walked quietly towards the back of his living room, only to stand by his sleeping boyfriend. Watching him lie there so peacefully, the librarian grinned to himself, tracing the surface of Eren’s profile with his index finger, counting the seconds before he woke up. As he reached the tip of his nose, he refrained from touching him any further, feeling his heart constrict from just seeing him so late, yet not late enough. He regretted everything.

Falling on his knees, Jean scooted closer to his boyfriend’s figure, taking him in from head to toe. How much more was he to go on like nothing was wrong? Had he done things differently, would he still have been where he was that day? Answers to questions like those just didn’t come to mind, inklings of plausible ideas turning into more inquiries than the ones he originally coped with.

“Eren,” he finally called out in a whisper, partially trusting his gut feeling. Once a blinking pair of green eyes stared his way, he took the hand that rested numbly on top of the other man’s chest. “Hey, dummy. You fell asleep.”

“I didn’t know you’d be home late.” Jean got his reply in a mumble, right before Eren stopped a yawn with his free hand. Caressing long, dark hair strands, Jean adjusted to the warmth his boyfriend’s body irradiated. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” Jean jumped to say, blushing hard right after realizing it had felt as wrong as lying. Stopping himself to consider what to say next, he quickly surrendered and let himself go with the flow. “I- Uh. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah. I thought you were avoiding me,” Eren smirked up at Jean, bright-eyed and calm. Getting closer by the second, the troubled brunet looked down at the sleepy man’s lips before closing the gap between them.

Caging his head between his hands and pushing long hair behind Eren’s back, the librarian kissed him in a rush. If he had to remain sincere, Jean had to admit that it had been Eren’s kisses that had brought him into that huge mess to start with. Already accustomed to how heated their time together usually became, he was not surprised by the swiveling tongue that threatened to slide over his sweetly. In Jean’s head, it almost felt like knives getting planted through his chest, right on top of his heart. It hurt, awfully so, but the bliss he got from Eren being so close and wanton felt like an energy push that could keep him going. Eyes closed, heavily breathing, Jean was brought back to that morning he’d had Armin in his arms, pinned against the door with his whole body pressed against him. How sufficient would that be when he already had so much more?

Distancing himself just to take a look at Eren’s flushed face and starry eyes, he breathed in and out without saying a word. However, the command he’d put so much effort into giving to his brain was not bodily followed, letting Jean look at his boyfriend plainly. Despite how much he’d wanted to smile, his painfully sliced heart bled the true meaning his thoughts conveyed as his vision fooled him. Before him, he wasn’t seeing shades of green, perfectly lines eyebrows, or a cocky smile covered by the dark narrow river some of his hair turned into as it cascaded down his chin. Like a mirage, there was a flash of bright light opposite him despite his closeness to the other man. Making his eyes travel over the face that showed up below his, he was greeted by soft, pink lips, a buttoned nose, deep blue eyes, and golden strands covering bushy eyebrows. Forgetting to inhale, Jean started shaking and opened his eyes just to find Eren right there in front of him.

How low was it to think he was kissing someone else?

“Well, you got overexcited. I guess you were meant to choke.” Jean heard the comment followed by a small laugh that managed to reach his ears. Still feeling lost, he looked up at Eren with a faltering look. All of a sudden, it just didn’t feel right to be so intimate with him. It didn’t feel fair to him.

“I’m sorry,” he replied with a small voice, standing up and reaching out to the man lying on the couch. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

“It doesn’t matter, Jean. As open as our relationship is, I am already used to the mechanics of you trying to figure stuff out. It’s really no biggie.”

“I think I need to be true to you,” Jean said bluntly, leaning his right arm on the kitchen table for support. “No matter how open this is, I guess there are limits.”

“Limits? Come on. You know me.”

“I kissed Armin,” Jean yelled, taking his head in both hands and pacing back and forth. “I kissed him. Not just anyone – _him_.”

“Babe, it’s just a kiss,” Eren tried to say, sounding more patient than ever before - something completely out of character considering how demanding and self-centered Eren was around Jean. “It’s not like you went back to him or anything. I’ve literally fucked other guys. We’re still ours.”

“No, we’re not!” Jean whispered in defeat, feeling disappointed in himself for having half-committed to a relationship he knew he never should’ve set foot on. “We’re not, Eren. I’m –“

“You are…?”

Staring at the other man’s tall body tower over his crouched one, he felt Eren’s presence intoxicate him. It felt poisonous, lethal even. Gripping the border of the table with one of his hands, he did his best to control his impulses. He didn’t want to screw it up with his honesty. He wanted to be fair, just the way he hadn’t been the last few days.

“I don’t know,” Jean replied, feeling his voice crack when his hazel eyes met Eren’s kryptonite-colored ones.

“This is so not like you. You can just say it. You’ve been completely off for weeks.”

“Everything I feel, everything I’ve done these last few years, everything I’ve thought of – Fuck, everything I imagine at night is Armin. He’s on my mind. Constantly. I don’t know how to stop this, Eren. He’s even contaminated what I _say_. Ever wondered why I can’t call you other than by your name? Because he fucking took all the possible lovely options away. Every word I’ve said has been so full of him. Shit, I can’t even be anywhere near you because my body’s telling me to go where it feels it truly belongs.”

“So it took you two weeks to tell me you’re… still in love? And not with me, for sure.”

“It felt like a damn lifetime, Eren! You wouldn’t fuckin’ know,” Jean mumbled, staring down at his feet as he gasped for air. “I thought it would be alright. You were up for what we have, and I thought I’d be over him when he returned. But I just can’t seem to get him out of my mind.”

“It was open for a reason.” Jean heard his boyfriend say with a flashy smile. It struck him senseless that Eren would look so care-free in a situation like that. He had just admitted to his everlasting love for not him, but his best friend. Watching his mouth open, the librarian prepared himself for any words that could follow.

He deserved going through hell for having fallen so low. It just hadn’t been like him to keep it all inside for so long – but he couldn’t blame himself either. He’d convinced himself to live on painlessly.

“You kind of are a huge piece of shit right now. But just because you left me waiting for two fucking weeks with no explanations whatsoever. Still, the moment you kissed me at Sasha’s party, all drunk and needy, I knew it. Mikasa knew it, and she always bothered me by asking why the fuck I was in a relationship with you. Everyone knew; we weren’t stupid. But I stayed because it felt… interesting, I guess.”

“So I’ve made a fool out of myself all this time. That’s what you’re saying right now, Yeager.”

“That’s right, Kirschstein.”

Falling on his back, the taller of the two laughed lightly, looking up at the emerald eyes staring his way. The fall didn’t even hurt compared to all the deprecating thoughts he’d so fashionably sported ever since Armin’s arrival. Apparently, the outcome was far from pleasing Eren in any way, but he felt relieved. He hadn’t felt so free since he’d confessed his love to Armin back in high school. Lying on the ground, he closed his eyes and felt the breeze coming from the gap at the bottom of the front door.

* * *

Commuting with such heavily rainy weather had been hard. His umbrella had turned upside down with the strong winds, and his bus had taken longer than usual to get him home. However, his odyssey to return home was nothing compared to the sight that awaited him by his building’s small garden. He’d previously discarded what remained of his umbrella in a dumpster nearby, so he could feel all that water dripping from his head, making him look like a living pool. He regretted having done that instantly as his eyes found the tiny figure of someone wearing the waterproof coat that he’d bought months before Armin’s departure. Standing there, right behind the visitor, he couldn’t believe his bad luck.

It hadn’t been a week since he and Eren broke up. He hadn’t heard from the long-haired man since, and something in his heart was grateful for it. As manipulative as he’d been in the relationship, Jean just couldn’t picture him as someone who would go back on his word for someone who didn’t love him. Calling Armin’s name from behind, he remembered that the reason behind their breakup was standing right in front of him, smiling wide at Jean.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Jean said, not really knowing how or why Armin was right outside his home under the pouring rain as if he didn’t already have a lot to take care of. The question left him before he could process it. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Well, I just wanted to get wet out here by your side,” Armin replied with a giggle, yet Jean could sense something was different. Something had changed about him, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Well. You can come in if you want,” the librarian said, holding his keys with his left hand, way too tightly. Soon, his palm turned snow-white in comparison to his tanned skin. “I can offer tea and… I don’t really know what else.”

“Sure,” Armin answered shortly, the smile still on his face as he walked behind the taller man. Jean usually ate a lot, ever since he was a kid, so not having his companion ask him about how on earth he wasn’t aware of the fridge shocked him for a second.

In the end, after so many years, Jean had feared being forgotten. He just wouldn’t tell anyone about it.

“Elevator or stairs?” He heard the words come from a small voice once they were inside the building. Suddenly, it felt to Jean that living on the second floor just made things so much easier.

“Stairs are cool.” He couldn’t have stood being trapped in an elevator with Armin. He’d already dreamed of that lately, so he didn’t need more stimuli to play tricks on his mind.

The walk upstairs was silent, comfortably so. Most of the time, Jean couldn’t stand spending time with people without talking to them. He felt awkward whenever silence took place in his interactions, but he’d grown so accustomed to Armin’s peaceful one that he didn’t even mind commenting on anything. Opening the door to his apartment, he saw his ex-boyfriend’s surprise at how he’d kept it in mint condition. Looking down at him, Jean shrugged his shoulders and laughed at the fact they could still practically communicate telepathically.

Shaking his jacket off, revealing the library’s wet shirt wrapped around him, Jean couldn’t help the look of it feel like a smack to his cheek from reality itself. He was at home, late at night, with Armin by his side and a T-shirt that summed it all up. Quietly, he went over the two options he had, still standing by the door frame with the blond man looking at him, completely puzzled. Following his instincts, he could’ve just taken the piece of clothing off or run to his bedroom. Running away was not an option when he realized that his favorite blue eyes in the world had already scanned the library’s embroidered logo with his name badge on top. Seeing him open his mouth to ask the question he was too afraid of answering, Jean closed the door behind him with shaky fingers.

It was too obvious.

“I need to go get changed,” he said, swallowing hard and avoiding Armin’s look unsuccessfully. Frowning to make his thoughts go away, he started walking past the kitchen, leaving the visitor standing in the hall.

Or that was what he thought until a hand encircled his wrist and made him turn around with a force he wasn’t used to perceiving from Armin.

“The library,” was all the shorter man said, staring up into his eyes with something that made his insides twist violently. It wasn’t the lust or amusement look he usually got, but the sincere, lovey-dovey one he had been once accustomed to.

“Yeah. You know how I like recycled clothes.”

Hearing a laugh come out of Armin’s lips, Jean felt himself smile fondly before the other man’s arms wrapped around his neck, forcing him to stare back at his eye level.

“That’s probably the worst lie you’ve ever told, Jean Kirschstein,” Armin whispered opposite him, their faces so close the librarian could feel the citric scent invade his personal space like it had about a couple of months before.

“This isn’t good, ‘Min. Don’t want you to catch a cold,” the taller of the two replied, humming right after as he looked down at his shoes in what felt like embarrassment. He’d been exposed so aggressively by a stupid T-shirt that he couldn’t believe his bad luck.

But the giggle that came after was worth it all, and so was the pair of lips that kissed him senseless when they fell silent again.

Hugging Armin felt nothing like the time he’d arrived. Back at the airport, it had been like he had been greeted by someone he’d fucked with, partly because his Social Studies love had gone the extra mile with his acting. There, in the middle of the living room, it all felt different. That was Armin – _his_ Armin, doing everything he could to trap Jean into the cage that his small body was. Desperately so, Jean couldn’t help kissing him back, no regrets involved. It was just the two of them now, walking backward to his room with what felt like no patience at all.

The blonde did his best to open the door to the host’s bedroom without letting go of Jean, and the librarian felt incredibly thankful for them being so glued to each other. Every cell of his body had missed having the other man around so much that his absence hurt for a while. Months. Years. Up until they had taken the step of making out in Eren’s home, which was also Armin’s. But Jean’s hands around Armin’s waist just couldn’t stop caressing his sides despite the logical side of him hitting him there, with his ex kissing him roughly.

He couldn’t care less.

Stopping in front of his bed, Jean kicked off his shoes, leaving his lover breathless and whimpering when he decided to stop kissing. Taking his T-shirt off, he stood there quietly, looking down at Armin, whose eyes inspected his upper half speechlessly. Smiling to himself, the hazel-eyed man just couldn’t believe his luck as he let his eyes roam over the sociologist’s, finding him all bright-eyes with dilated pupils and a look that mixed his two favorite perceptions of Armin’s stare – love and awe.

“Do I need to take off anything else? Asking because I seriously don’t want to stop kissing you after this,” he asked the shorter man, whose cheeks had already turned redder than ever before at the mere implication of Jean’s question.

But still, the answer he got felt, in nature, defiant and wild. Something Armin had never shown to him because he’d surely learned that with time. And other people, but he was no one to judge.

“I guess this will have to go, too,” Armin replied right after his question, undoing his cufflinks and shirt buttons before taking his top off. Taking his hand before he started unzipping his pants, Jean stopped him from moving on to his other clothes.

“Are you sure?”

“Are you?”

“Am I?” Jean whispered back with a smile, pointing at his face for Armin to guess it out.

They stared at each other for seconds, which felt like a lifetime yet not long enough. The blush on Armin’s nose extended to his pale ears and burned to the touch when Jean tapped his nose lightly. Never had it ever felt so heartwarming to have each other in the dark after going through so much.

“You’d better be.” The librarian heard the comment come from out of the other man’s lips and went for Armin’s lips again, biting on their dry skin as they fell on his bed. Staring at his lover’s cerulean eyes through his eyelashes, Jean bumped their noses together as he lay on top of Armin’s small torso. Licking one of the corners of his lips, the strong hold of his hands on the visitor’s shoulders helped Jean kiss down Armin’s neck, leaving small bites as the other’s mouth delighted him with soft whimpers and the sighs that he’d just been able to access in his dreams.

He ran his left hand down to the blond man’s stomach, playing with the little hairs that welcomed him through Armin’s chills. Leaving traces of his kisses on the blonde’s left clavicle, he let his mouth wander downwards to his chest. Taking in the softness of his lover’s skin and the warmth of a beating heart against his eardrum, Jean leaned in and closed his eyes to simply feel for once. Finally finding the peace that he’d long waited for, he looked up at Armin, who had been staring down at him with tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Jean.” He heard his name come in a soft whimper, nothing out of the ordinary yet something entirely refreshing. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I know things must have been tough, and I’d understand if –“

“I want you,” Jean murmured, lifting his head and using the bedroom wall for support to look back. “I’ve wanted you for longer than I can tell.”

“Show me how,” Armin whispered with a smile, clearing his face with a thumb.

Jean couldn’t help but smile at the person lying underneath him. His once high school sweetheart remained there, waiting for an answer he already knew, but the librarian didn’t mind reminding him of how much he was loved, and wanted, and needed. Quickly going up to kiss Armin’s crown, he lingered there to feel the friction of their bodies in unison. Feeling the tightness of his pants and electricity run through his veins, he let go of Armin’s mouth and kneeled by the bed, unbuckling the blonde’s belt and kissing every spot he’d missed before. To the rhythm of Armin’s slow moaning, slightly deafened by his ex’s teeth biting down his lower lip, Jean finished what his visitor had already started. Unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down to Armin’s bony feet, the librarian left a trail of kisses up his hardened thighs, which made his blood rush to his face so much more.

When he felt Armin’s fingers slide through his hair and hold his head to adjust his face near his crotch, Jean took the change to let his breath hover over his hard member, teasing the younger of the two. Listening to a guttural sound coming from the sociologist’s voice box, he knew it was time to prepare his love. Taking his time to slide Armin’s cutely patterned briefs down his knees, Jean licked his lips and looked up for approval one last time before letting his mouth wrap itself around Armin, licking and kissing him firmly just to be granted his voice one more time. Soon accustomed to how it felt to be home to his everything, the librarian felt his heart leap at the sight of Armin going for more, thrusting into his mouth like it all was meant to be temporary. With a loud pop, Jean left Armin in bed, naked with his legs wide open, running out of patience when the taller man took his distance. Nevertheless, the stormy look in his eyes disappeared as Jean got lubricant and condoms out, throwing them on top of his nightstand. Finally, finding each other’s eyes quickly, the sociologist understood his message quickly. While all kinds of ideas and wordings ran through Jean’s mind to tell Armin somehow, getting a nod from the other man was enough to arrange it all.

“Fuck me” would have sounded very Jean-y of him, but it wasn’t the kind of thing he wanted Armin to hear. He wanted him to be inside him, filling him whole and making him his, just as he’d always been. Regardless of how hard he’d tried to get rid of those feelings, his heart and his body felt functional with Armin’s smart, loving, compassionate being nearby. Despite how much he’d wanted to tell Armin to let him be his again, he couldn’t find words, yet the look in his eyes had apparently been enough for his companion to understand it all. As per usual, he repeated in his mind.

“I won’t go easy on you, darling,” Armin whispered at him from behind, biting on his ear before positioning himself right outside of him. Jean, already moved by their dynamic, felt tears run down his cheeks at the pet name he’d just been called.

“I don’t want you to, babe,” he said with a big grin as a response, drying his tears on one of his pillows before feeling Armin inside. With a loud sob, he let his head fall on the bed as his lover adjusted to how it felt to be right there in him.

It wasn’t the first time they had sex, yet the last time had been right before Armin’s departure in the last cubicle of a hidden airport toilet. Young as they were, they couldn’t let go of each other without marking each other forever, and it had felt to Jean like he truly had been branded as if burning metal had left Armin’s name on his skin. On his insides – even on his soul. When he started being more sexually active with Eren’s help, he never let the green-eyed man be the one to fuck him senseless, saying something along the lines of “I never take it from behind.” The truth was that only with Armin would he let that happen, and if that was bound not to happen ever again, he’d live with it. Still, he knew he’d only be Armin’s to his dying day.

The scratch of his sociologist’s nails on his back brought him back to present times, and the blissful pain he got from it was enough to tell his lover to move faster. Sensing the coldness from Armin’s touch on his hips, Jean looked down as the other man’s skin hit his loudly and hard. Suddenly, Jean felt as if his heart had been right behind his Adam’s apple, and he choked for reasons he couldn’t decipher. The pace of Armin’s pounding against him was extremely steady, and he was fast yet smooth. However, the unbearable need to speak out for his love flooded his insides, letting the feeling simmer down until he exploded. Taking his dick in his strong hands, Jean stroked it carelessly roughly, not even paying attention to how much it’d probably hurt after they were done. He wanted to be everything there, in his bed and with the love of his life. Hearing Armin’s moaning getting louder and louder, he knew.

“Jean, I’m –“

“I love you,” Jean cried as his seed fell on his bedsheets, tears running down uncontrollably and shivers going down his spine.

After his confession, he could feel as if his heart was resting on his tongue already, all his feelings exposed like it didn’t even matter anymore. The silence that filled the room after that was terrifying, yet it was enough for Armin to groan one last time before he came inside him.

* * *

After months of more heavy rain and snow avalanches right outside his building, Jean had become used to carrying a coat and multiple umbrellas wherever he went. That day, however, brought different things to him, making him leave the embarrassingly bright yellow coat he still had to return to its owner. The rays of sunlight leaking through the library’s thick glass doors hit the uneven freckle pattern that decorated Marco’s cheeks, making him smile at the sight of him looking and feeling his happiest in a long time. Folding the tickets for the winter movie nights hosted at the library ever since he’d begun working there, Jean hummed a song from their lunchbreak playlist. Tapping his feet softly enough not to bother the readers nearby, he swayed in place while his finger slid across the pre-cut sections of his ticket roll. Honestly, though, he felt at his best knowing he would have an improvised Friday night date with himself at the movies. After the one-night stand with his ex, he hadn’t spent much time on his own except for the long working hours he spent in the library’s cafeteria, planning the winter events away with the help of his best friend.

Jean, as the ultimate library supervisor, was in charge of those movie nights after their manager, Petra, had gone on maternity leave and left everything in his hands. During the short time he spent being some weird kind of boss, he decided to make some changes in the library’s traditional section arrangements. Ever since he’d started working there, it had never made sense that comic-book readers were sitting beside the cafeteria when all they did was spill their coffees in overexcitement. Because of him, the Comic Book section had been moved to the second floor, where Floch would insist on the readers’ responsibility for damaging their material. After the change, he felt like he’d finally done the hundreds of coffee-stained volumes some justice, yet he knew it wasn’t his interest to do so in the first place. It was what seemed right to him, mostly because Armin had commented on it back when they’d had their first date back in their junior year. The librarian’s memory was both his blessing and his curse, and so when he achieved something so small but meaningful, he felt content enough with himself.

When he finished cutting and piling up all the tickets for Marco to classify, he heard Floch yelling his name, to which he frowned uncomfortably. Everyone around the reception had turned to them as if questioning their labor, so when Marco rolled his eyes at him, Jean took big strolls up the stairs and found a scene that delighted him more than it should have.

“Sorry. You could call your supervisor so that we come to an agreement about this. There’s no need to shout. I’m sorry.”

The apologies would’ve sounded heartfelt if it hadn’t been for the cheeky face that greeted him from the back of the Comic Books section, juice stains decorating the fabric of the same classy white shirt he’d last seen on his bedroom floor. The rest of the liquid had been poured over a Marvel volume that looked as familiar as the stare he received from the perpetrator.

Those apologies hadn’t been genuine at all, and the suggestion to call for Floch’s superior hadn’t been correct in the least. Politically correct, maybe, but not in his mind. He knew the man too well.

“Forster, what’s going on in here? Why the big fuss?”

“We literally moved all these comics,” Jean heard the ginger whisper beside him and pause to point at the aisle where the unjustified crime had taken place, “for this person to come and make it all happen again.”

_Make it all happen again._

“Floch, that’s alright. Go downstairs and help Marco with the decorations,” Jean commanded him and towered over the man holding the ton of wet paper in his right hand. Seeing his colleague leap downstairs to assist Marco Bodt, he shook his head with a smile and spoke in a whisper, “I can’t believe this.”

“I owed you the visit. Since when have you worked here? You didn’t tell me last time.”

“Last time, you were all over me and didn’t even let me speak.”

Watching a pair of red-colored cheeks and glossy blue eyes, he picked up the _Amazing Spiderman_ issue and threw it in the nearest trash bin. Turning around, he found the shorter figure following him as if he’d been his shadow.

“Why did you never call?” Armin asked, his voice lowering with every word.

“Why did you leave without saying goodbye? Would you move on to someone else immediately after a breakup?” Jean replied matter-of-factly. Despite his effort to remain neutral opposite his high school sweetheart, he found himself doing his best not to collapse from just seeing the sociologist again.

“I’m sorry. About that second question… Depends,” Armin smiled up at him, getting his backpack off his back and opening it to get the same _Amazing Spiderman_ issue. Handing it to Jean just the way he had eight years and two months before, he continued, “Would you?”

“I want to,” the librarian breathed out, walking back to the section where Floch had overreacted to Armin doing something premeditated. “Why are you donating this to the library anyway? It’s yours.”

“If it won’t be yours, it won’t be anyone’s,” Armin shrugged, adjusting his glasses with his right index finger. “Plus, this is a place I hold close to my heart. You still haven’t answered.”

“I’ve worked here for a while now. I started about six years ago?” Jean admitted, his lungs storing less and less air as the minutes passed and his hazel eyes adjusted to Armin’s cerulean stare. At some point, it became unbearable enough that he had to look away, pretending he was patrolling the area.

“And why are you still here?”

“Won’t say.”

If it hadn’t been for his loud wristwatch and the seconds ticking by, Jean would’ve sworn the world stopped when Armin laced his soft, slender fingers with his calloused ones. Feeling the touch get the best of him, he stood still just to enjoy the sensation produced by the small circles that the blond man rubbed on his hand. Turning to the shorter of the two, the librarian squeezed his hand and smiled down with a look of disbelief he’d tried hard to get rid of from the moment he found Armin on the second floor.

“Can I stay for movie night?” Armin whispered, leaning his head on Jean’s arm. Still having some trouble breathing, Jean listened to Armin’s echo through the empty aisle.

“Will you say goodbye tomorrow?”

Watching the sociologist shake his head and point inside his bag, Jean couldn’t help but question how on earth the man brought a whole fridge in it. Containing his laughter, he stared into Armin’s eyes without solving the mystery.

“I guessed I could make you some omelette tomorrow. Would that be alright?”

With a heart of his own, hammering violently on his chest and threatening to leave him lifeless right where he was standing, Jean zipped the backpack closed and hung it on his right shoulder. Staring into the brightness of Armin’s sphere-sized oceans, he huffed and held the other man’s hand, walking towards the library stairs just like they had so many times before.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I go for M-rated stuff. I'm so nervous, but I hope it all went well for you.  
> If it did (or didn't!), please, tell me about it! I hope you enjoyed this weird Valentine's Day story.


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